Reflections on life from 50-something

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April 8-10, In Which We Talk Mostly About Hands

This would be my new nail kit. Now, I know it looks like a tackle box on the outside, This is to keep my female children at bay. The insides will be aversive to the boy kids, and so I have a mani-pedi kit all to myself. The four bottles in the long row are new, as are the ones in the packaging. Of course, I got rid of five bottles tonight as we will discuss in a bit.

This is my fresh manicure, taken on top of my journal pages, because I somehow managed to get my clock set incorrectly Sunday. The time read 6, but it was only 5 when I got myself and then the children up Monday. I actually had time to journal on a Monday morning. That was awesomesauce.

On Tuesday, I misplaced my give a damn. I went to school in opaque tights, a mini dress, and Mary Janes.

This is my palm tonight. Do you see the spots and dots? Apparently, I have athlete’s foot. but because I itch all*the*damn*time, I didn’t realize I had athlete’s foot until the skin started cracking and bleeding. In the meantime, I must have transferred it to my hands. Either that, or I am allergic to the stuff I am treating my foot with. Whatever. I am now treating both feet and both hands, and I threw out every bottle of nail polish I had used since January, including base and top coats. Nail polish is relatively cheap. Athlete’s foot is more than relatively aggravating, especially on your hands. I don’t want to risk giving it back to myself trying to save a buck or eight.

I decided not to show ya’ll the picture of the dime sized debrided blister on my foot. You can thank me later.